


quite sweet indeed

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: A quiet moment between Hera and Kanan, which fits within "Breaking Ranks" (Season one, Episode 6)
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	quite sweet indeed

A week had passed and there had been no word from Ezra or the others at the Academy. No word, no sign that the translator was anywhere closer to being found. Meanwhile, Hera and Kanan waited, something that neither of them was particularly good at, though Hera privately thought she at least managed _slightly_ better than Kanan. Of course, that depended on if better could be measured by how much she’d added to her most recent crocheting project. What she’d meant to be a scarf was now a very long, very slender sort of blanket. Or perhaps a banner? Maybe a rope.

After trying and failing to analyze what exactly she had made, Hera gave up. She stuck the hook deep into the ball of recycled artificial wool yarn, then, lobbed it over into the empty chair next to hers in the cockpit. She’d figure out where her chain stitches had gone wrong at some later point. Not now.

Now, she decided, was time for rest. She closed her eyes.

The Ghost’s tight hallways, no longer full of the usual boisterousness of Zeb and Ezra, or the squeaky chatter of Chopper, or even Sabine's... Sabine-ness, now only echoed the sounds of Kanan’s booted feet pacing.

Up. Down. Pause at Ezra’s room. Up. Down. Pause by the ladder to the turret gunner station. Up. Down. Pause.

Hera, sitting in her chair, sighed and pitched the bridge of her nose. “He’s fine, Kanan.”

“How do you know?” he called up to her. “It’s been over a week.”

“It’s been exactly a week.”

“Well,” he paused, letting out one of his numerous grumbles. This was the _kriff-she’s-right_ grumble, which just might have been one of Hera’s favorites. “It feels like longer.”

“You’re telling me.” She’d meant to make the comment off-handedly, but some tiny note of worry escaped into her voice.

Almost as soon as she finished speaking, Kanan appeared in the cockpit. His dark eyebrows furrowed as he peered at her, concern clear in his face. Hera bit her lip. She had tried so hard to hide her own concerns about this mission knowing how Kanan already felt. She thought she’d be better at hiding that from him, given how much else she already kept secret.

Like how often she thought of an impossible daydream; the two of them, alone for a week, no missions, no Imperials, not even the company of their friends. Just them. It was odd how close they were now to that daydream, with the Ghost only holding them both until Ezra’s half of the mission wrapped up, and yet how far they were from it. It was impossible to imagine curling up in Kanan’s arms and forgetting the galaxy existed when so much was at stake.

Which would always be the problem, of course. They were fighting for freedom against the dauntless threat of the Empire. There would always be so much at stake.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. With far more gentleness than she had treated her own project, Kanan scooped up her crocheting project. “You’re upset. I can tell.”

“With your Jedi powers?” she teased.

“With my knowing-you-all-too-well powers.” He threw himself into the other chair, his long legs sprawling out, like a lolth cat in the sun. “Which, I’d like to say, are perhaps more difficult to gain than Jedi powers.’

“I’m sure,” Hera smiled, glad to hear that note of playfulness in his voice. “You practically deserve a medal then, for how you’ve succeeded in that challenge.”

“A medal?” One of his eyebrows went up, the exact opposite of his earlier expression. He pulled the crochet hook from the yarn and brandished it at her. “Come on now, for such a difficult task, I think the reward should be higher.”

“I’ll bake you an uj cake.” She leaned over to gently swipe his nose with her index finger, the sort of tiny teasing gesture she’d only do alone with him. Even if the stakes were high now, there had to be some small moment where they could pretend they were two normal sentients who just might be in love.

“With blumfruit icing?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Hera leaned back, stretching up her arms. The worry had somehow melted away, fading into the back of her mind where all of her worries, from largest to smallest, stayed safely stowed, allowing her a much clearer head. It was the same clear head that reminded her, no matter how adorable Kanan looked right now, with his eyes wide and bright, as if she might just pull the cake from her pocket, she couldn’t kiss him.

Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

“You really think Ezra’s okay?” Kanan asked.

“I do,” Hera replied with a small shrug. “But I’m not the one with the Jedi senses.”

“Point taken.”

The silence fell between them. Kanan looked down at her crocheting. “Is this supposed to be a… tablecloth?”

“It’s a scarf.”

“For a Reek’s neck?”

She shook her head. “Point taken.”

“The color’s nice. Familiar.” He poked at the tan and orange ball, which crinkled and crackled at his touch.

“It’s the color of your old jumpsuit,” she replied. “It was too tattered to make into anything but yarn.”

“Your talents will never cease to amaze me.” He flung part of the scarf over his shoulder. “How do I look?”

“Preposterous,” she said, but privately thought _adorable._ The scarf suited him. Not that she planned on giving it to him, of course. She had just sort of assumed she'd leave it in his room, letting him find it and... And of course he'd know it was from her. Zeb crocheting was out of the question, and Sabine had snapped her crochet hook in half every time Hera had tried to teach her.

“We can cut it in half. Ezra might need a scarf. You know. When he gets back. Which he will.” Kanan rambled as he rolled up the never-ending scarf.

She fidgeted with the ship’s dashboard, checking a dozen different meters that she didn’t need to check. “You’re very sweet, you know,” she said, still looking down at some tiny light that had never once illuminated on the board. There was a bit of dust on it, which she set to brushing off with a sleeve. “To worry so much about him.”

“I’m not sweet.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not!” Kanan’s voice grumbled, the sort she’d classify as a _very-embarrassed_ grumble.

“I see.” She kept her words short, because her grin was much too big to say much else. Ever since Ezra had come on board, Kanan had seemed different. More easy to tease. More open. He was changing, and it made Hera happy to see the growth, even if privately, she still feared all that could go wrong.

“I just want to know he’s safe.”

“Of course.” Hera leaned back in her chair, yawning. “Which is very sweet of you.”

“I’m not sweet.” Kanan’s arms folded. “But I am tired, and it looks like you are too.”

“I’m not.” Her eyes were closed, but she could practically sense his raised eyebrow. “I slept a little earlier.”

“By earlier do you mean yesterday?”

“Maybe.”

She didn’t want to tell him that she’d considered knocking at his door last night. That without the others onboard, she’d wondered if maybe they could share a bed. Even if she knew that would complicate things. Even if she knew better.

There was too much at stake for things like that.

They both knew it too. She’d lost count of the times she’d heard him outside her door, or opened it to find him almost, almost, knocking on it. But it was a line they hadn’t crossed, not in a long time, and perhaps never would again. Even if it was nothing more than two being curling up and enjoying each other’s warmth, it would still be too dangerous for them.

They needed to keep their wits about them if they had any chance of continued survival against the Empire. They had survived so far with skill, quick thinking, and more than a little luck. Kanan would probably include the aid of the Force in that last category, but regardless, they were alive because, so far, they’d been smart. Giving in to that soft, ever-present longing that followed them both, growing larger in the quiet loneliness of night, would be the exact opposite of being smart.

But oh, how nice it would be, Hera thought, to wake up to his sleepy smile each morning. Perhaps in another time, or even, another life. One with far fewer risks than theirs.

“Rest,” Kanan said. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

“Just one?” Their teasing sometimes flew so quickly, it almost seemed they read each other’s minds, which would make some sense if it was only Kanan. But Hera, too, could so often guess what he’d say before he would say it, knew just what parts of his personality to gently poke at and which ones to leave well enough alone. She even knew, though no one else did, which parts of him ate at him, led him to stay up some nights, staring blankly into the sky ahead, fists clenched to fight an invisible foe.

She had sat next to him for many of those nights, and would do so for countless more.

A chuckle reverbared from deep in his chest. “For you, Hera, I will keep both eyes on things.”

She heard him get up, and a bubble of confusion rose inside her. Honestly, the man, as wonderful as he could be sometimes, could be equally frustrating. Hadn’t he just said he'd keep an eye on things? Of all the… “What are you…”

A moment later, she felt the warmth of a jacket slide over her shoulders. “There,” he said. “You looked cold.”

“I was fine.”

“Now you’re finer. I mean. Er.”

Though she enjoyed his stammering-blushing-grumble, Hera rescued him. She tried not to embarrass him _too_ many times in one day, though she liked to think a little bit of blushing was probably a good counter to his ego. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Those words, she thought, summed up a great deal of what could be, perhaps generously, called their relationship. So many little gestures, so many small moments of appreciation, and all of them, swept under the rug, never to be mentioned again.

It was better that way, with so much at stake.

They knew each other as well as an ocean could know a shore, and for them, that would have to be enough. Always touching. Always pulled apart. Never simply at peace. But in the ebb and flow, Hera had learned to find these small moments, these tiny windows into an alternate life, one where there was peace and they were together.

Sleep tugged at her, and she yawned again. But she didn’t fall asleep, not even long after Kanan settled back in his chair. Or she thought she hadn’t, but found herself waking at the sound of his footsteps again, crossing the tiny distance of the cockpit between them.

“Sleep well,” he said, and so gently she might have thought she might have imagined it, if it wasn’t for the prickly brush of his beard, he kissed her forehead.

A small smile played over Hera’s lips, though her eyes stayed closed.

Kanan, could, in fact, be quite sweet indeed.


End file.
